Veritas
by The Golden Hierophant
Summary: The magic has died, and the music has faded; the Faun is gone leaving her behind in the cruel hands of humans, and yet she still hopes madly for salvation even as she lies backwards on slick stone wet with her own blood.


Veritas

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Pan's Labyrinth/Labyrinth Crossover

Moanna(Ofelia)/Jareth/Sarah

Disclaimer: This is my first Labyrinth and Pan's Labyrinth fanfic. I'm a large fan of both films and always wanted to see what would happen if they were to crossover. I own absolutely nothing, and I'm making no profit by writing this.

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Chapter 1: Hades' Pomegranate

Bang! There's no meaning or logic to it. It's just there like a rose's thorn biting deeply into the hand when held. Nothing makes sense, and the world begins to swirl. The magic has died and music faded; the Faun has gone leaving her behind in the cruel hands of humans, and yet she still hopes madly for salvation even as she lies backwards on slick stone wet with her own blood. There is so much of the gelatinous fluid on her hands as she clutches at her heaving heart; blood runs down her nose dripping on the stone beside her, and pools from the torn flesh near her heart all around her filling those blasted twists and turns cut into the stone of the labyrinth.

It's quiet now.

All sound and light fade into cool blackness, nothingness of self and world. This land is a zero zone. Is this Heaven? Is this where her mother went after her baby brother was ripped from her womb by the hands of an unskilled medical officer after the Captain killed that kind, old doctor? No, this must certainly be Hell. Her mother told her put away all of those silly fairytales; she warned her that those were the Devil's lies, but they were so beautiful in contrast to the bitter truth of reality.

"Rise, my daughter," rang a deep solemn voice on the other end of eternity.

Her head hurt and her hands were still clasped over her heart, but they weren't hot, sticky, and wet with her own blood; they lay upon cool clean silk. She opened her eyes and met a high golden ceiling. Fairies flitted to and fro above her. None of this could be right; the Faun proclaimed that she'd live and rot amongst humans until nothing of her soul remained. She rose from the stone of the hall's floor, stepping meekly through the archway. There he was; the dear Faun beamed down at her.

"You've done well, your highness. Rather than sacrifice the blood of an innocent to gain entry back to the kingdom, you spilt your own. That was the final test," the Faun murmured bowing deeply.

Moanna looked up at the high thrones numbering three. One was empty; that must have been met for her. The next was delicate, spun from gold and embroidered with gems of colors, she'd never seen before. In it sat the Queen, her mother- her true mother. She was every bit as beautiful as Moanna had imagined, and her smile was more calming and brilliant than any Moanna had seen.

"Come, sit by your father's side," Her mother spoke beckoning her to sit in the throne near the King. Moanna walked forward, gazing upon the tall throne, and if by magic a soft wind lifted her through the air and fairies danced all around her. She sat upon her throne, and a crimson crystalline scepter bejeweled with many little sapphires and moon stone manifested in her hand and silver delicate circlet beaded itself over her hair.

--

Moanna paced through her gardens swiftly to avoid making any noise; she was shirking her lessons once more. The Faun would be less than amused when he found her. She smiled to herself. Eight long years had passed and there was still so much more to learn and remember. She'd grown so much since she'd arrived here. Her hair and eyes retained their dark color, small reminders of her stint in the surface world, and her face was slight and heart-shaped always wearing a mischievous mask. She could hear the faun behind her now.

"Your Highness, this is most improper. If you want to perform magic properly, then I insist you come here this instant. Trust me, I am not angry," the Faun bellowed. His voice betrayed his feelings.

Moanna allowed herself a small giggle, and she ducked behind a large golden column. Having such a small frame proved quite beneficial at times. The Faun walked right past her; she was off the hook for now. Where to, today? She pondered this for a moment, and then settled on a small escapade in the forest. She knew enough magic to activate the waystones scattered throughout the palace grounds. She bit her lower lip in frustration; once she was certain she'd fixed the image of her favorite willow in the forest, she pointed forward focusing her will on the small crystalline obelisk in the distance at the edge of the garden. Pop!

A wave of nausea assaulted the princess, as the world stopped spinning so rapidly. She quickly became aware she laid, feeling quite disoriented, underneath the willow and clasping her dress sleeve which was sodden with her own blood. She'd done it again; Moanna hadn't focused hard enough on the spell, and she'd left some little bit of herself fixed in time and space back in the gardens. She cursed, and ripped off the sleeve discarding it. She'd have to clean the wound. There was a spring not very far into the forest, she'd learned about it during the Faun's geography lessons, but she stopped. She was afraid. She'd never been to that part of the forest before, but this was the Underground, the land of fairies, where there was no pain or lies. Well, she disproved the first part of that theory many times, and that was the day when she learned that not all things in this magical land were meant to be taken literally.

Moanna looked behind her back once; the false orb of light hanging over the castle illuminated only this part of the forest. She gazed in front of her regarding the soft bluish glow of the trees deeper into the forest. There was very little light to guide her way to the spring. She wasn't a child any longer. She needn't fear what lurked in the dark. That thought wasn't reassuring. She swallowed her fear, fighting against her better judgment of the creatures that might have been lurking in the mist and darkness, and set off. The trees here were so different from the ones on the surface world, they were very treelike in stature to be sure, but they were all a soft blue and glowing very faintly. The leaves were a deep blood red, and all of the other little shrubs were rather bizarre colors as well. She heard the rustling of something off in the distance and jumped…so much for conquering fear. Her arm began to feel a bit numb; she needed a bandage fast. Moanna tore off a small portion of her dress around her ankles and tied it around the gash; her mother would be so displeased. That was the third dress she'd ruined this week.

The spring glistened faintly in the dark under the light of the trees; Moanna knelt at its edge and used her makeshift bandage to wash her wound in the cooling water. She felt renewed…and uneasy. That wasn't right, but she had the suspicion that she was being watched. The princess looked about wildly fraught with fear, and completely prepared to flee until her eyes settled on a large snowy white owl looking down at her from a high branch across the spring. Moanna reapplied the bandage silently, and cocked her head to the side looking at the owl, curious. The princess had never seen an owl in the Underground before. How odd.

"Tell me, owl. Can you speak or are you simply a beast?" She shouted across the spring, studying the bird's cool, intelligent gaze.

The owl regarded her with feigned indifference.

Moanna clucked her tongue and whispered to herself preparing to leave and return to the castle, "Only a beast then."

"Things are not always as they seem in the Underground," a soft tenor rang out.

Moanna jerked up from the pond indignant to reply to owl's remark, but instead, she was faced with a tall richly dressed fey with wild blonde hair, mismatched eyes, and high cheekbones. He leaned against the tree opposite her side of the pond absentmindedly twirling a crystalline orb in his hand. He regarded her with lazy amusement.

"Who are you?" Moanna whispered suddenly shy.

"Speak up, girl. I can't hear you," the fey deadpanned.

Moanna's blushed, annoyed. What cheek! Didn't he know that she was the princess of the Golden Kingdom of the Underground? She'd certainly inform him of the fact, if he didn't, "I have you know that you are addressing, Moanna, princess of the Golden Kingdom where the sea meets the land."

The fey chuckled, "And, I'll have you know, _Moanna_, that you are addressing, so rudely might I add, Jareth the Goblin King."

Moanna paled. She suddenly recalled seeing the fey last year during one of her father's meetings, she'd spied upon. Her father, the High King, would most displeased to learn she'd spoken quite rudely to Jareth, whom was leering down at her with grin of a delighted cat after getting a bowl of milk.

She ran her fingers through her hair awkwardly. Suddenly the forest became far too stifling, and she wished that she could shrink back into the darkness of the forest. Moanna cleared her throat and replied, "I apologize…Jar-your majesty."

"Is that how you treat all of your subjects, princess? May your parents live forever, because if you've ever the chance to rule, the kingdom will fall into anarchy at the state of your manners," Jareth clucked disapprovingly.

Moanna wanted to throttle him, just take that neck of his and strangle him. She apologized, and he still insisted on making himself insufferable.

"Look at you. You've ripped your dress, and by the way beautiful legs…and, you're injured," Jareth chattered amiably.

Moanna blushed fiercely. He'd seen her legs! She willed up her inner natural magic, floated lightly across the stream landing mere inches in front of Jareth, and slapped him screaming, "King or not king, you've got some nerve. A true gentleman would've helped a lady dress her wounds, not sit on a high bough watching her like a common letch."

Jareth rubbed his cheek bending low so he could look directly in her eyes slightly angered and whispered, "And a lady does not gallivant around the wild countryside in a torn dress like a common baud."

Those words stung, and Jareth knew he'd gone too far when girl's eyes began to tear up. She was hurt, most likely lost, and confused, and here he was picking on her. He couldn't blame her for reacting with such fear and distrust. His eyes softened. After all, this was dear little Moanna…she wasn't Sarah. She didn't deserve his sarcasm or his bitterness.

"I'm…sorry," Jareth murmured looking away.

"It's okay," Moanna muttered, "I was the one that instigated this spat."

"You're hurt," he took her arm in his hands resting one palm on the wound. A cool energy seeped beneath her skin, dulled the pain, and restored the tear in her flesh like new, "I'm afraid that I can do nothing for fabric through."

"Thank you," the princess whispered. She suddenly noticed how close she and Jareth were. Her cheeks colored, but she couldn't will herself to pull away. He smelt of spearmint and the forest- like the countryside she'd lived in with her human mother and the Captain so many years ago. She suddenly noticed how young and handsome he looked in comparison. He couldn't have been much older than she judging by appearances alone, but fey aged very slowly; so, he had to be countless centuries older than she.

Jareth appeared to be studying her as well and pulled away suddenly. He looked as if he'd done something very guilt inspiring, looking at her as if he were really seeing her for the first time. He cleared his throat and muttered, "We should return to the castle. I must speak with your father."

Moanna nodded, and Jareth draped an arm around her shoulder stiffening and looking very much as if this was the last he wanted to be doing. He extended one hand forward and a crystal like the one he'd been playing with earlier materialized in his hand. He squeezed the orb, and it exploded into many small glittering fragments which began to swirl around the both of them.

A familiar feeling of disembodiment swept over Moanna. "Not again!" she cried clinging to Jareth for dear life.

The main hall of the palace swirled into view with its high golden columns and arches. All activity ceased and serving fey that would be normally running errands to and fro stopped to look the odd couple. Moanna smiled shyly at a circle of elder fey noblewomen in the corner of the hall shaking their heads at her.

"My goodness, Moanna, what have you gotten yourself into now?" came the familiar shriek of her mother, the Queen, using a tone that surely meant punishment would be coming later. The Queen rushed towards Moanna and stopped short when she noticed Jareth, who quickly untangled himself from the princess.

"Jareth, it is good to see you," the Queen murmured stiffly completely disregarding Moanna's windblown appearance and torn dress. Something was wrong. Moanna looked back and forth between her mother and Jareth.

"And you as well, your majesty. I've come to seek an audience with the High King," He bowed lightly speaking with low reverence. Moanna noted that his countenance had changed entirely. He'd gone from amused to completely prim and serious within a matter of seconds.

"We've been expecting you for some time, Jareth; my handmaidens will lead you to my husband. Come, Moanna, I must speak with your for a moment," The Queen took her daughter's hand leading her away from Jareth into the open courtyard. She still hadn't noticed Moanna's appearance.

"Mother?" Moanna inquired looking up at her mother's troubled face.

"We should go to your private apartments…get some tea and have a nice small chat, dear."

"What's wrong, mother?"

"Everything, dear, everything," the Queen placed her hand upon the waystone tracing a few runes with her index finger, and suddenly Moanna found herself in her personal sitting room with her mother standing beside her. The room was like a forest, itself. The walls were colored a deep green with textured wallpaper, and the furniture therein was all hewn from dark mahogany wood and soft feathered cushions tinted a light olive.

"Your clothes, they're torn," her mother murmured absentmindedly.

"I had an accident…going to the forest," the princess stammered.

"It's of no matter now. Sit," the Queen pointed towards a plush armchair waving her other hand mending the torn fabric of the dress magically. She joined Moanna in an armchair opposite the one her daughter sat in. Her mother traced a circle with her finger on the dark wooden table between them and a silver tea tray appeared.

"Tea?" the woman offered the girl.

"No. I'm fine, mother. Please tell me what is wrong," Moanna asked troubled.

Her mother helped herself to the tea. Moanna almost missed her mother's hands shaking as she handled the small flowery cup clattering against the saucer it sat upon. Moanna's eyes narrowed. Her mother drank deeply and looked away from the princess, thinking for a long moment, before answering the girl.

"There comes a time in life…my dear, where everything changes. We must put away our dolls and childish dreams to become householders."

"I don't understand what you're saying, Mother," Moanna's brow furrowed.

"Your mind may be that of young fey, Moanna, but your soul is old…as old as Jareth's. You and he…you were playmates before you were lost to the Surface's light," the Queen focused directly on Moanna's face now.

"And what does Jareth have to do with all of this? I knew him? Were we good friends or something?" Moanna felt a headache coming on; she was deeply confused.

"All things change, my dear. I've changed, you've changed, and everything else has changed. I only wish we could have had more time with you."

"More time with me? What do you mean?"

"You're getting married, Moanna, to Jareth. Don't give me that look, dear. This is not a jest."

"But why, mama?" the princess shrieked. It felt as if someone had cracked an egg over her head and all of the yolk was running down her hair, her face, and her neck as a cold shock washed over her.

"It was decided thousands of years of ago, before you disappeared on the Surface. You and Jareth always showed a certain fondness for one another, and your father and I decided with Jareth's parents that it would be best if you and he were to marry."

"How could you decide something like that?" Moanna blanched and continued, "Playmates or not, I scarcely know Jareth, now. I have no desire to marry him. Please don't force me to."

"That's what I feared once we'd found you again. You must marry him, Moanna. We cannot go back on our word now; Jareth has been waiting for you for thousands of years. I've tried to buy as much time as possible, but we're at an end of things. We haven't a male heir, and both kingdoms are eager to see you and he married to solidify the future of the Underground."

"It isn't fair," Moanna cried.

"No, it isn't. Who ever said life was fair, dear princess," came a soft tenor from the doorway. It was Jareth and her father. They both strode in.

"I am not exactly most eager to marry you either, Moanna," Jareth deadpanned.

"Well, there we are. I don't want to marry him, and he doesn't want to marry me. Problem solved," She shouted shooting her fist in the air in mock victory.

Her father, the High King, cleared his throat and spoke, "No, everything isn't solved. You and he must marry whether you wish it to be so or not."

"What! Why?" Moanna cried now on edge.

Her mother answered her, "It's what both kingdoms have been waiting for thousands of years for. The agreement was struck and writ in an oath of blood four thousand years ago on this day. Such oaths are not so easily broken, my daughter."

Moanna paled. What little she did know about blood oaths ensured her that the marriage must be carried out or there would very dire consequences.

"Both kingdoms will burn and sink underneath a barrage fire and ice should this oath be broken," the King murmured solemnly and continued, "In spite of this, both Jareth's father and I have decided that the marriage will be postponed for one month so that…you and Jareth may familiarize yourselves with one another once more."

"What your father means to say, dear, is that you shall both stay in an isolated castle on an island in the middle of the Dreaming Sea, and hopefully romance will take its natural course," Her mother chimed in sighing.

Moanna felt as if she could have gagged. She looked at Jareth noting the scowl he wore on his face knowing that he shared similar sentiments.

"Romance just doesn't happen," Moanna murmured defeated, "I see there is no real choice in this at all, but if you expect me to grin and bear such a grim fate, then you've got another thing coming," Moanna cast a hateful fiery glare on Jareth.

The Goblin King in return gave a long bitter laugh equally full of hate, "My _dear_," he spat the word as if it were something highly distasteful in his mouth and continued, "By all means rebel. Destroy the future of the Underground in one swift motion. I could care less. You spoke of fairness earlier, and more than any other do I know that life isn't fair. I came here bound by the command of my parents to marry you, a woman I'll never love."

The Queen gasped looking towards the High King to mend the disagreement before it devolved into something far more chaotic. He sighed and ran his hands through his grey locks. He was an old fey indeed to be so baffled now. His dear little Moanna would be leaving him so soon after he spent so many thousands of years searching for her. Above all he wanted the princess to be happy, but he had to forgo what he wanted to guarantee her safety once he had finally passed away. Though Jareth in all actuality probably wouldn't love her, the memory of many a childhood spent running along the shores of the Dreaming Sea would keep him from harming her, and so the High King made his decision.

Moanna's father sighed, feeling older than he'd felt in many years before speaking, "Moanna, you shall go to the castle today. The existence of the Underground cannot be placed in danger. It is we, the High Fey, which give this world order. When all the old spirits fled into this world from the Surface, we established kingdoms to prevent the lands from falling into chaos. Your union with Jareth will represent a continuation of this order. Your marriage to Jareth will be a symbol to the people whether they are fey, spirit, or another sort of magical beast to continue living in harmony with one another."

"You'd compromise my happiness?" Moanna screamed, "What about what I want? I know I must marry him, but couldn't I at least have a few days to say goodbye to my friends, to the Faun, my cousins, and most of you and Mother?"

"If you tarry any longer here, I fear you may never go. Know that I'd never do anything to push you away, Moanna. I want you to stay here with us more than anything, but this blood oath complicates things. It was written with the old magic, and that is more binding than friendship, familial ties, hope, and love. Such a thing cannot be defied," the High King whispered solemnly, his voice breaking. He hugged his daughter and left the room disappearing off in the distance down the corridor leading to his and the Queen's royal apartments.

Moanna's mother rose; the woman's golden eyes shined with unshed tears, and Moanna rose to meet her. The Queen croaked out, sobbing, "We'd never do anything to h-h-hurt you, Moanna. This was only…done for the b-b-best. Your personal effects will be t-t-taken to the castle this afternoon…my dear, forgive me. I've been such a horrid mother. You're leaving us now, and I can scarcely muster up the words to bid you farewell. You are to leave in an hour's time. I'd remain with you, but I can scarcely look upon you without weeping."

Moanna was in tears now, clinging to her mother. A dull weight settled onto the princess's heart. She released the woman and watched her retreating form down the corridor. Moanna collapsed into her armchair feeling more exhausted than she'd ever felt before. Jareth had long since retreated to the corner of the room settling near a fruit bowl picking through the various dainties it held trying his best to remove himself from the situation. He'd felt just as awful as the princess.

Perhaps he could lighten the situation, "Pomegranate?" He offered, holding the blood colored fruit in his outstretched palm towards the defeated girl.

"Is this funny to you, Goblin King? Is it a twisted sense of humor on your part to offer me fruit as if this were a regular ballroom meal? Do you think that I'll play the role of Persephone in your house, Jareth? It is quite miraculous how quickly you make yourself tiresome once you cease to be merely a decorative piece in the corner," Moanna snarled.

Jareth glowered at the girl and snapped in return, "Well, _Moanna_, if this is how you'll beha-"

She cut him off, "Call me, _Ofelia_. It is what _they_ used to call me up there," she said pointing up towards the Surface and continued, "I'd rather you not soil my true name with your foul voice."

Jareth roared in anger, shoving the crystal fruit bowl to the floor. It splintered in a thousand pieces. Moanna felt genuinely frightened now. He stalked towards bending low as she cowered in the armchair, gripped her cheeks with one hand, jerking her face up towards his so she'd have to look at him, and began to speak in a very low dangerous tone, "Fine then, _Ofelia_, have it your way. If you want me to treat you as one of those low born, powerless heathens then I shall. You are nothing to me. You'll be nothing to me for all time. Do you hear me, Ofelia? Don't look away, and don't you dare cry, girl. Crying solves nothing; only weak sentimental fools do it. I'm marrying you out of honor and duty. Words you've no inkling of apparently. When I first set eyes on you, I saw a weak simple-minded brat playing the part of a princess. You can't play the victim forever," he shoved her away then and went to stand near a window opposite her armchair. Moanna's heart was beating so strongly that she thought he'd be able to hear it.

The princess sat there speechless. Tears stung at her eyes and ran uninvited down her cheeks. She clawed at her face to hide the saline droplets. She wouldn't cry anymore. She'd show him. She'd prove him wrong. Moanna glared stonily at his back.

Jareth sighed, "I do not apologize for what I said. Ofelia, you are a brat, but let's try to make this marriage as civil as possible. I'll be waiting for you in my castle." Another crystal materialized in the Goblin King's hand. It was very similar to the orb he'd used to bring Moanna back to the castle. He gave the orb a squeeze, and it shattered. In a single moment of brilliant light and heat, Jareth was gone, and Moanna was left in her cold, dark room, utterly and bitterly alone emotionally numb from all of the day's misfortunes.

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If you've enjoyed this, please review. I'm also very receptive to constructive criticism, and I really value your opinions and what you think.


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